anddeadboredaretheflosideitsdoors.

hillside,hjustasiage,halldoorsclosedandasolitarypeachtreein

iedpalace,

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nonpeopleshos梬ithouttheirknowing.

thefarrupletothefieldshavegone,

noheredsparroing,

fullblossotandingidlyinfront,apparentlyingitsfragrantgloryoed

onluded

isachieved,then,isapoeticfeelingforthepeachtree,supposedtobecapable

e.

houtoingintothedetailsoftheirdisurse:

aotions,notbydirectpersonificationbutbying

taphors,like”idleflohesadhechafingsparroc.the

hereetyistheuntrypalace,etylikeadreainlonelinessandquietthered

hisnotebook:

aainonfolloeho

taphorsintheelvesarenothing:thepoetrynsistsispreadinghis

attitude,isextrelyninallgoodesepoetry.so,forinstance,didlipo

eofthegreatilies:

andtheshewangandhsiehhalls,

threelelonggayandgreenoas”heartless”becausetheydid

sharehisople,he

thelastandstiortantpointistheiofnaturalobje

etiohesotiontoliveand

valley.istillreerthelasttyfriechedin

andontheblackgoheevningsunisglowing,

beginoneofhisbestpoe:

or,inoneofhisbestknos,drink

regret.

ofbeing”bored”todeath,.thesateique,orrather

lateattipassedtheverdanthills,

not,astheyoughtto,reerhoudsharethepoetsfeelingofpoignant

ihedecayoftheblae

ierialflo.soberidsarechatting.